An Easter Compromise

I'm just going to come right out and say it:  I fell asleep.  I had a perfect plan worked out to keep the Easter Bunny from breaking into my house on Easter morning (that didn't, Sister, require bunny ears), but that plan fell through.  The giant bunny managed to break into my house and, though he didn't get any carrots (turns out we didn't have any in the refrigerator), he did manage to seriously compromise my status as Head of Security. But I don't think it was entirely my fault that the bunny managed to breach security.  You see, my family kept me very busy yesterday and I was simply too exhausted to carry out my plan.  Let me explain.

My family is always telling me that I am a born helper dog.  I love getting right up and under the sink or toilet with whoever is doing plumbing (the smaller the space the better), I am a pro at turning large sticks into small sticks when I assist with the yard work, and I am very skilled at shredding old receipts and cancelled checks (the only problem is I tend to get a bit over exuberant and shred documents that I shouldn't--sorry Ma for this morning's shredding session).  Anyway, yesterday I was exceptionally helpful.  I helped, or at least tried to help (more on that later), all three members of my family.  Here's a rundown of what I accomplished.

Pa:  I helped Pa replace a window in the living room.  I helped in three ways:  I barked out instructions (I always need to remind Pa to measure twice and cut once), I accompanied him outside countless times to cut the trim and molding and carry garbage out of the house, and I kept an eye out for any misplaced tools I could herd back to Pa's side (and gnaw on if I got the chance).  Pa was very impressed by my helpfulness and made sure to tell Ma and Sister when they returned home from work and doing chores.

Sister:  I helped Sister make cupcakes for Easter.  When Sister cooks, I'm in charge of quality control and cleanup.  You see, not only does Sister give me samples of ingredients as she adds them to her recipes, but she also tends to be a bit of a messy cook.  Talk about a win win situation for me!  Yesterday, I patiently waited by her side to clean up bits of creamed sugar as if flew off the blades of her hand mixer and also muscled her out of the way when a piece of lemon zest fell to the floor between her and the dishwasher (after all, I didn't want her to accidentally slip).

Trying to Help Ma

Ma:  I tried to help Ma paint the living room, but apparently Ma didn't want my help.  No, I don't know why.  I tried to help when I noticed her struggling with the drop cloth, but apparently holding down one end by laying on it was not Ma's idea of helping.  Then I tried to retrieve her paint roller, but she definitely didn't seem too keen on that idea.  It was then that Ma blocked me out of the living room using a chair and a baby gate.  I was quite insulted and barked at her for a while.  Obviously, some people just don't appreciate an enthusiastic assistant.

And those are the reasons why, when I decided to merely rest my eyes for a minute last night, I fell deeply asleep thus giving the Easter Bunny his opportunity to break in and scrounge around for carrots and leafy greens.

Enjoying My Easter Toy

But you know what?  Maybe I was a bit harsh on the bunny.  Despite all my threats, the bunny left me a present:  a giant yellow chick plush toy (which Sister has already had to sew up three times).  Maybe, just maybe, if he keeps his visits limited to just once a year and doesn't tell those stupid little bunnies that keep trying to take over my backyard each summer about our agreement, we can get along just fine.  Maybe.

Preparing for the Easter Bunny

The scariest night of the year will occur in less than a week's time.  In the wee hours of Sunday morning, a giant furry rabbit will break into millions of homes throughout the nation (including my own) with the purpose of rummaging for carrots and leafy greens while depositing brightly colored eggs in his wake in a sad attempt at making up for the intrusion.

Yes, Easter is nearly here.

In anticipation of this brazen break in, I have spent the last couple of days trying to think of some line of defense against the large carrot-thieving rodent.  After all, not only am I protecting my property (you, my loyal readers, know how much it upsets me when a bunny infiltrates my backyard--just imagine how I must feel about a bunny in my house), but my reputation as well.

After much thought, I have come up with a surefire plan to snag my bunny:  I intend to stay up and wait for the Easter Bunny to appear then chase him out of my house barking hysterically.  Admittedly, staying up late enough to catch the bunny will be taxing (I do enjoy my beauty sleep) so, to stay alert, I will spend the nighttime hours crunching on the carrots the Bunny is breaking in to capture (not only will doing so prevent the Bunny from accomplishing his evil plan, but my intake of Vitamin A will significantly boost my eyesight thus making it easier to see the Bunny as soon as he breaks in).   I know, it is a great plan; well thought out, fool proof, and most importantly, containing a built in snack time.

Little did I know, however, that Sister was also working on a plan.

Not Amused!

Sister's plan involves me dressing up like one of the Bunny's kin in an attempt to lure him into a false sense of security.  I wagged my tail politely as she explained her plan to me, but I immediately could sense that Sister's suggestion was bound to impact me negatively.  It was then that Sister produced "The Ears."  At first, I mistook "The Ears" for a fluffy toy, but, on closer inspection, I realized that they weren't toys at all.  Like the good dog I am, I humored Sister and allowed her to balance the headband on my head then take a picture.  But then all my goodness ran out.  After hearing the click of the camera, I snatched the cookie Sister was using to distract me from "The Ears," threw my head back with a quick jerk, and caught "The Ears" as they flew off of my head and into the air (and Pa complains that I don't play catch).

Just a Little Mangled

Well, all hell broke loose after that.  I ran around in circles flipping the headband in the air, chomping on the yellow fluffy ears, and dragging them through the mud.  But that wasn't the best part of the entire experience.  Nope, the real enjoyment came from watching Sister run after me begging me to drop "The Ears."  At one point, she even tried enticing me over to her with a cookie (I resisted--the cookie looked good but my stolen prize was far more valuable).

Needless to say, "The Ears" are no more.  I definitely dodged a bullet on that one.

So bunnies beware.  My plan will be in affect starting first thing Sunday.

A New Trick

I’m an exuberant student.  I love learning and doing tricks.  What can I say?  I’m a bit of a ham.  Sometimes, however, my exuberance gets the better of me.  You see, whenever someone has a treat in their hand, I immediately go into overdrive.  Rather than simply doing the trick I’m asked to do, I feverishly go through my entire arsenal drooling wildly with anticipation of getting the tasty treat I've been promised.

Well, when Sister came home this afternoon at lunch time she told me that it was high time that I learned a new trick.  Sister has taught me most of my tricks including how to shake hands, do figure eights between her legs, jump through a hoola-hoop (at least when I’m not trying to grab it and carry it away), wave, and drop to the ground when someone yells “Bang!” to name just a few.  Today’s lesson was how to bow with my chest on the floor and my back end sticking up in the air.

How did my lesson go?  Well, after a half hour of practice I…

• ...rolled over twice (wasn’t asked to).
• ...spun around one time (wasn’t asked to).
• ..nearly knocked Sister over three times with impromptu figure eights (the human knee apparently cannot withstand a good solid head-butt).
• ...left large scratch marks up and down Sister’s arms from my enthusiastic attempts at pawing the treats out of her hands (Sister says I need to file down my claws a bit).
• ...slobbered and frothed all over Sister’s hands.
• ...mistook Sister’s fingers for chicken flavored treats two times (Sister only yelped once).
• ...punched Sister in the face and left a scratch mark on her cheek.

So, in other words, my lesson was a great success!

Not a Good Day

Some days are filled with exciting trips, playful thievery, destruction, and other entertaining doggy events.  Other days, however, I question why I even bother to wake up and get off of Sister's bed.  Yesterday was of those days.

It started in the wee hours of the morning; yesterday was the beginning of Daylight Savings Time.  Now, I have mixed feelings about the entire event.  On the one paw, when it begins in the spring and the clocks "spring ahead" an hour I get my breakfast an hour early and when the clocks "fall back" I gain an extra hour of sleep.  However, on the other paw, when the clocks "spring ahead" I lose an hour of sleep and when the clocks "fall back" I have to wait an entire extra hour to have my breakfast (and my family doesn't even offer me a midnight snack).  So, in short, I lost an hour of precious beauty sleep yesterday, which kicked off a series of less than pleasant event throughout the day.

Wallowing in the Mud

Shortly after breakfast, Ma and Pa pounced on me and cleaned my ears.  I was a good boy and let them do what they had to do, but I did my best to dissuade them by shaking uncontrollably.  Sadly it didn’t work.  After what seemed like forever, I was finally released, ate their offering of a piece of leftover roast beef, and proceeded to drag my head along the living room rug, howling with displeasure.  I wish I could say that I felt better after carrying on the way I did, but to be honest, I did not.  Seeking out another way of showing my anger, I found a nice muddy spot in the yard and rolled around in it.

Now, in hindsight, I should have been suspicious when no one came out of the house screaming that I needed to stop wallowing, but the nice cool mud on my face felt so good that I just didn’t think things through.  If only I had…

Shortly after coming back in the house, Ma and Pa removed my everyday collar, slipped on my "Bling" (AKA my prong collar and choke chain), and loaded me into the car.  As Pa drove, my mind kept jumping from “Oh boy! We’re going for a ride in the car,” to “This is not good—no collar means I’m getting a bath,” and back again to “Oh boy! We’re going for a ride in the car."  Minutes later, Pa parked the car, we all climbed out, and then we started walking the half block to the Doggy Spa (Ma's words, not mine...I think she's just trying to trick me into thinking that I'm going someplace nice).  It was the longest half block of my life.  It was like walking to my doom.  True, I enjoy showing my handsome shiny blonde coat off to the world, but I also work really hard at getting nice and stinky and sometimes I feel like people don't appreciate my efforts.  Sister, however, appreciates my stinkiness.  In fact, while I was walking to my doom--I mean bath--she drove by and yelled out the car window that I was a "stinky dog."  Sister always says the nicest things.  Eventually, despite my protests, I was led into the Doggy Spa where I was shampooed, conditioned, and towel dried.

Shortly after getting home from the Spa (and after Ma and Sister dried me off using a nice warm hair dryer which I love) I noticed that my ear was bothering me.  I think that Ma and Pa accidentally sloshed water in my ear during my bath (which, to my thinking, is yet another reason why I should not have to endure the hassle of getting regular baths).  Let me tell you, it is really annoying to have water in your ear; I keep shaking my head, but the water never becomes dislodged.  Now Sister is annoyed at me because my shaking apparently kept waking her up last night.  Hey, at least her ear wasn't full of water. 

So, in summary, I lost an hour of sleep, had my ears cleaned, got a bath, and ended the day with water stuck in my ears.  Yesterday was not a good doggy day.

Napkin Please

Proper etiquette dictates that, after taking part in a meal, it is polite to dab one’s mouth with a napkin to remove any remaining food particles.  It goes without saying then that I, a proper and refined dog, would partake of such a custom and wipe my mouth after eating my breakfast and dinner.  As expected, however, I do this in my own unique way.  After all, if the napkin manufacturers didn’t make a product that was so much fun to shred and eat, perhaps I wouldn’t have to improvise.

It all started when I was a little puppy (which just goes to show that despite what my family says, I was born with impeccable breeding and superb manners).  Almost immediately upon being adopted by my two legged family, I established a mouth wiping routine (and in those happy puppy days I got three meals rather than two a day so I had an awful lot of practice).  Ever since then, I've been perfecting my form and I can honestly say that I am now an experienced professional and happy to share my technique with the world.

How to Wipe One's Snout After Eating

1. Finish eating and lick the bowl clean (never, and I mean never, leave food behind--I learned that when I was living with my four legged siblings--boy those pups could eat!).
2. While entire back half wags with joy, scuttle into the living room and head straight to the couch.
3. Starting at one end, drag side of head alongside the entire length of couch.  Make sure to vocalize while doing so (this includes barking, yipping, howling, yodeling, and any other form of noise making--the louder the better).
4. When end of couch is reached, drag head along ground making sure to howl as loudly as possible.
5. Turn and repeat steps 4 and 5 until chin is sufficiently wiped.
6. Wag tail twice and take a nap.

And there you have it, the secret to my success.  Feel free to copy and build upon it; perhaps you can add some digging or actually climb up onto the couch and drag your face on the cushions' tops rather than on its sides. 

Anyway, this technique was splendid until the house out east came along.  Suddenly I was told that I wasn't allowed to rub my chin on the new white couch that Ma and Pa bought (they should have known better than to buy a white sofa).  Ever resourceful, I tried dragging my head along the living room rug, but it is not very soft and my nails get snagged in its fibers (don't want my left dew claw to go the way of my right dew claw).  That left only one other alternative.

How to Wipe One's Snout After Eating 

(when the couch and rug are off limits)

1. Locate nearest human.
2. Drag snout across pant leg.
3. Repeat as necessary (or for as long as human will allow).

Yeah, it's not quite as elegant...or fun...or loud, but I guess it's just the cost of being such a refined well bred dog.